Lilac Mist
by SpilerCaer
Summary: missing scene, timeline DMC3. Vergil & Nevan


**Lilac Mist**

_Not every human can become a dragon, _

_But the dragon never be a human._

_Book of Dzi_

He went into the hall and hasn't paid attention to the door closing behind his back. He got used already that all the doors closed on their own.

The hall, the scene... The thick layer of dust laid everywhere - and the cobwebs were in corners. It was quiet, the silence was broken by a strange rustling sound from time to time, weak and almost imperceptible.

He took a deep breath and felt an unusual pleasant smell, spilling down the hall. It smelled not as dampness or as rags and that's strange. It was possible to discern barely noticeable lilac mist in the air at close look. The pleasant smell proceeded from it probably.

The silence was disturbed by a weak rustle once more. He turned to the source of sound, but found nothing, and when he looked forward again...

- I know who are you... - the half-naked woman said melodiously. She stood a few steps away from him. - You're really like him.

He kept silent, staring at... the witch? The demoness?

Bright red locks fell down on her naked breast like two streams, covering it slightly. Dark skirt hid the legs with the flakes of darkness and shrouded hips. Shining eyes flickered on a pale face mysteriously.

- You resemble so... - the woman whispered and stepped forward. She moved very unusually - smoothly and fitfully at the same time. And she overcame more distance for one step, than the usual human, as if she floated in the air.

He remained silence.

- You look like... Sparda, - the woman said very quietly and stopped in three steps away from the guest. She didn't dare to come closer or waiting for the convenient moment, maybe.

He got used to seeing an enemies at all inhabitants of the Temen-Ni-Gru.

"If you do not think so - you will die".

He wasn't going to die soon.

- Would you tell anything? - The red-haired lady raised her eyebrows inquiringly and smiled a little shaky.

Vergil inclined his head to his shoulder and looked at her as if studied the exhibit in the museum with appraising view.

- You have his sword also, - the woman murmured, examining the weapon. - The darkest of his swords. And the strangest.

He put his palm on the Yamato's handle. The woman pulled away in a flash and appeared near the scene, she thrown up her hands in a protective gesture.

- No! I will not to resist or attack... I just... Just... - she paused and lowered her head. - I just wanted to talk.

- Who are you? - he asked at last, but hasn't removed his hand from the sword's handle.

Vergil didn't trust this strange lady wrapping in scraps of darkness. He just needed the information, and she knew something of avail.

- My name is Nevan. I am a one of the Guardians of this tower, - the woman answered and straightened her red lock gracefully, opening a white breast slightly. - Are you his son?

He kept silence again.

- Sure... - Nevan approached and smiled faintly. - Of course, you're his son.

She approached so close at this time that touched him almost with her breast. Pleasant bewitching smell became stronger.

- While... - the woman clung to him, clasped with her palms his right hand and pressed on his shoulder. - While I waited and hoped that he would come himself. When he gets tired of the people. Or when she dies... Mortal are so fragile and short-lived, right?

Soft breath tickled his ear, and Vergil's fingers relaxed a little on the sword's handle.

- You want more than a fate of the half-blooded, so? And if I'll help you...

Her lips glanced off on his neck, burning as an ice cold, but it appeared more pleasantly, than he expected.

- Succubus... - he whispered, realizing the nature of the smell and lilac mist, diffusing through the hall.

- So what would you say if I will help you to become stronger? - Nevan looked into his face, and her fingertips ran down his cheek with a passing caress.

- You don't know what I need, - he answered firmly, squeezed her wrist and removed a thin hand.

She laughed loudly, thrown back her head. The hair slid off her white breasts trembling seductively with laughter. Then she nestled to the guest, allowed to feel each bend of her figure. She whispered, touching her lips on his chin:

- I know. You always need the power. Even Sparda needed the power. I will give it to you... One drop of blood...

- You don't know what I need, - son of Sparda repeated coldly, removing Nevan aside, and took a step toward the door.

- You refuse so easily from...

- I know, from what I refuse, - he snapped. - And if you stand on my way - you will die. Forever. Together with your power.

The bitter laugh sounded behind his back.

- You are the same as Sparda. Well... Go towards to your future.

The half-blooded followed advice, but Nevan called him again:

- Vergil, the heir of Sparda, do you know, what you waiting for? What will happen to you?

He stopped for a moment, putting his palm on the patterned surface of the heavy leaf, but then he pushed it resolutely.

Nevan shuddered, when the door slammed with a rattle.

- Oh yeah, you know... - she said quietly. - And you are ready for everything, even for death. Just like Sparda. It is a pity you did not want to stay. Perhaps, you will return once...

Nevan closed her face with the palms, but then she drew up.

She waited for another guest. And she needs to meet him properly therefore it's stupid - to waste the time on regrets and memories.

It was spent two thousand years on them... Two thousand years of hope and expectation.

What a pity - Vergil didn't kill her.

Eventually, Nevan wanted only freedom now.


End file.
